Did I mention cicadas? They. Were. Everywhere. Holes in the ground announced their communal hatch (my shoes are in the picture, below, as a measure of their size). Shells left behind clung to trees, leaves, and branches. With wings free to launch them into their mating pursuits they hurried from tree to tree, branch to branch, and by day buzzed themselves into full concert mode. When you're surrounded by woods the serenade is constant during the day (they rest at night), like an incessant roaring crowd just over the next rolling hill. Not one of God's more lovely creatures they were nonetheless not much of a bother unless they flew into you. While pruning a crepe myrtle among its lower limbs I experienced several dive-bombing episodes, but that aside, they're tolerable in their short-lived time on earth. That said, I'm grateful that they only visit every thirteen years.
Tomorrow I'll share photos of less noisy passages of time. Stay tuned!